


More Is Less (Nishinoya x Reader)

by kuroolongtea



Category: Haikyuu!!, ハイパープロジェクション演劇「ハイキュー!!」| Hyper Projection Play "Haikyuu!!" RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Awkward Romance, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Light Angst, Romance, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroolongtea/pseuds/kuroolongtea
Summary: Falling in love is scary, and falling out of love is scarier. But what’s scariest, is having to end things with someone you don’t want to hurt—someone who convinces himself that you do still love him.Soundtrack: “Breathe” by Lauv“You’re my all and more, but I need room to breathe.”
Relationships: Nishinoya Yuu/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	More Is Less (Nishinoya x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a piece i wrote for my angstvember event!  
> feel free to follow me on tumblr where i'm more active (@kuroolongtea) for more content c:

Nishinoya taps his phone screen for the second time within the minute, hoping to see your name on it above a new text message.

But it’s not there.

He fidgets with his fingers, unable to focus on the movie playing on his laptop, the actors’ voices filling the silent space of his bedroom.

He’s nervous that you still haven’t called him like you said you would earlier in the day; it’s already two in the morning—are you going to blow him off again?

These days, he doesn’t get to see or talk to you much. He knows you’re busy, and he’d hate to add onto your stress.

That’s why it’s okay if you only respond to him as you see fit. It’s okay if you text him only in the middle of the night when you’re lonely. It’s okay, if you only remember to call him when you’re drunk out of your mind after a long week.

He knows you’ll call him when you can.

That’s why he’ll still send you texts every morning and every night, just so you know he’s thinking of you. He’ll happily leave you voicemails telling you he misses you and can’t wait to hear your voice.

He’d do anything for you.

And yet, there’s a tiny voice in Nishinoya’s head that comes back to taunt him every night. It interrogates him, and asks him if he _seriously_ thinks that you love him.

It’s so evident, so _obvious_ , that despite dating for so long, you just aren’t as invested in your relationship as he is.

The voice tells him that, if he had any _ounce_ of dignity left as a man, he would end things with you, and find someone who can actually love him in return.

But Nishinoya knows that the voice in his head is not to be trusted. He can’t afford to doubt himself, or lose faith in you—that’s not what a good boyfriend does.

He shakes off the uneasy thoughts, and, as if on cue, his phone buzzes. He snatches his phone off of the table within a millisecond, and immediately accepts the call upon seeing your name light up his screen.

“Baby?” Nishinoya asks eagerly, relieved to finally hear from you. “How are you? It’s so late.”

“N… ” you mumble, your voice barely audible. “Noya…”

You’d been drinking by yourself again.

You found yourself seeking comfort and fortitude at the bottom of a bottle more often than you’d like to admit these days; each time, you vow to gather the bravery to finally call your boyfriend and tell him that you two need to talk.

And each time, you break that vow.

After all, you could never fully bring yourself to do something that you know would hurt him.

That is, until tonight.

Sure, it’d taken you four extra shots of dark liquor in the form of liquid courage, but courage is still courage.

You were on the brink of blacking out when you pressed Nishinoya’s name in your phone, but your muscle memory, well-refined over the course of two years, made it easy—some things, you never forget, even if you wished you could.

“We… need to… talk….” you try your best to say, words slurring together like your thoughts.

“Baby, did you drink again?” Nishinoya asks, shaking his head at his phone. “Do you want me to come over?”

“N… no.” You’re just barely clinging onto your consciousness now.

Your upper body is sprawled across your dining table, one cheek pressed against the cold wood, while the other feels warm against your cell phone screen.

“Are you sure?” Nishinoya’s voice travels through the device. “I can come right now if you want! I’ll bring you some food, and tuck you in after—”

Those are the last words you hear before your mind drifts into complete darkness, and your phone finally slips from your grasp, the brush of your finger sliding against the “End Call” button.

“Babe?” Nishinoya asks, hoping to hear your voice in response, and searching for some indication that you’re still there.

But as he looks down at his phone and sees the familiar home screen he’s spent too many hopeless nights staring at, he knows that you’re not.

Nishinoya smiles softly and shakes his head, thinking about how cute and silly you must look when you drunk-call him. Even your slow, almost incomprehensible sentences were adorable—he’s been hearing them quite often these days.

Although confused about what you wanted to talk to him about, Nishinoya still feels a sense of misguided relief wash over him.

He’s happy that you thought to dial his number, even when you were so intoxicated you could barely think.

See?

You _do_ love him—you just need a little alcohol to jog your memory sometimes.

With that final thought of wavering reassurance to himself, Nishinoya decides to go to turn in as well; though both your bodies craved sleep, neither of your souls could rest peacefully.

And then, the next day comes all too soon.

You’re woken up by the sunlight filtering in through the large window beside your dining table, though the bright rays gently caressing your face don’t bring you the sense of comforting warmth that they should.

Instead, you almost dread being awake.

But, accepting the reality that you are indeed alive and here, you peel yourself off the table which you’d acknowledged as your bed the night prior.

You squint through the hazy light and, doing your best to ignore the pounding in your head by virtue of a well-deserved hangover, pick up your phone.

Your vision is a bit blurry from just waking up, but you can still make out the plethora of unread text messages, not that you need to read them to know who they’re from. A slight feeling of sickness begins to wash over your stomach, and something tells you it isn’t because of the alcohol from last night.

> [02:22]  
>  **Noya** : babe, you hung up before i could tell you, but make sure you drink lots of water before you sleep!

> [02:25]  
>  **Noya** : i’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? love you

> [08:11]  
>  **Noya** : good morning love! i don’t know why i woke up so early today but i thought of you first thing in the morning :p

> [08:12]  
>  **Noya** : are you feeling better?

> [08:58]  
>  **Noya** : you said you wanted to talk about something right? should i come over later? i’ll bring you breakfast!

> [09:22]  
>  **Noya** : what do you wanna eat today? it’s on me!

> [09:43]  
>  **Noya** : remember to drink water when you wake up! it’s easy to let your body get dehydrated after drinking

Glossing over his messages, you quickly type a response, pressing the “Send” button and immediately putting your phone back down. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to talk to him.

> [10:29]   
>  **You** : hey, i’m awake. i feel fine, so i’ll eat at home and then come meet you at your apartment

It would be cruel of you to end things with him, then kick him out of your apartment, after all.

But wouldn’t it also be inhumane to make his own home, a living space where he should feel the safest, the place where he had his heart ruthlessly broken?

There’s no good place for a breakup, you suppose.

You sigh, finally standing up and deciding to get ready for your day. You wash up, fix your unruly hair, and take an Advil for your headache—though nothing helps relieve the tightness building in your chest.

After eating a quick and light breakfast, you take the familiar route towards the subway that has brought you to Nishinoya’s apartment so many times in the past two years.

As you stand at the platform and prepare to board, surrounded by the noise of bustling, busy strangers and eerie echoes of trains headed to places you’ll never go, you think about your relationship with Nishinoya.

You reminisce, for today would be the beginning of the end.

Truthfully, the story between you and Nishinoya started off like a fairytale, like something straight out of a romance movie.

There’s no other way to describe your first encounter.

You, sleep-deprived and getting your morning coffee at the corner cafe, and him—a stranger at the time (albeit a cute one)—running up to you like an excited puppy, gushing and fumbling over his words about how you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Of course, once he asked, you gave him your number. Little did he know, you couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

And so it began.

For your first date, Nishinoya took you to a local carnival; you could tell he’d been itching to do all of the romantic couple clichés with you, and you found it incredibly endearing.

The experience was as perfect as a first date could be.

He bought you food, played games to win you stuffed animals, and, at the end of the night, kissed your cheek on the ferris wheel.

As if that wasn’t enough, the day he finally asked you to make your relationship official, he took you to watch the sunset on the beach.

You remember thinking to yourself that Nishinoya, sitting beside you, shone brighter than the sun itself as it descended into the horizon of the ocean. Its golden rays, painting the sky a medley of warm, glowing colors, reminded you of the chunk of bleached, golden hair in the middle of his hairline.

And, before you could stop yourself, you’d reached your hand out to touch it. His eyes widened as you brushed the golden locks back with your fingers, and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

He was perfect.

You loved him, and he loved you too.

But the honeymoon phase—even in movies—comes to an end, sooner or later.

Somewhere along the line, which was so imperceivable at first, your feelings began to change.

The passionate, devoted affection that once dominated your heart and your whole _being_ started to fade, and, with that realization, Nishinoya became more and more desperate to keep you in his grasp.

It grew suffocating.

Truthfully, you’re uncertain which of those things happened first, or which one had triggered the other; but before you knew it, a never-ending loop had already begun, trapping you in its clutches with no way out.

The more he texted you every day, asking you where you were, who you were with, what you were doing, the less you wanted to tell him.

There’s a strange phenomenon, where once you repeat a word too many times, it begins to sound strange and unlike itself.

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

With Nishinoya’s every utterance of those three words, they began to mean less and less to you, particularly when you felt them said as a desperate means to keep him from losing you.

You knew he could feel you slowly drifting away, that he could feel your heart straying from his. And yet, he never showed any signs of discouragement.

The more Nishinoya attempted to keep you within his reach, with all the romantic gestures he could think of—buying you flowers, sending you good morning and good night texts every single day—the less you wanted them from him.

It was smothering you.

You knew it wasn’t his fault. It really, really wasn’t—no one should be punished for wanting to love.

The worst part is, you knew it was hurting him too, even if he never showed it.

How could he not?

He didn’t know what he was doing wrong, or what he could do to fix it. He just wanted you to be happy.

Yet the harder he tried, the further he drove you away.

It just never ended.

But today, it’s different. Today, you’d finally break that torturous loop—it’s what you two both deserve.

Your arrival at Nishinoya’s front door comes all too quickly as you bring your index finger, trembling slightly, up to his doorbell. The door swings open in seconds, and you’re greeted by your boyfriend who’s ecstatic to see you.

Even on a day like this, he still shines so brightly.

You swallow hard, the knowledge that _you_ would be the one to dim his light weighing down on you heavily.

“I missed you, baby!” Nishinoya practically sings cheerfully, hugging you in the doorway. He then pulls you in by the waist and kisses your cheek sweetly. “You look nice today!”

“Aw, Noya,” you say, returning with a small smile as you gingerly separate your body from his.

“Come in and sit down,” Nishinoya beams at you, guiding you by the hand to the living room you know so well. “Wait here.”

You rest your bag down beside you on the couch and sit awkwardly, completely unable to find the sense of comfort it used to bring you.

Nishinoya disappears for a minute, and returns with a cup of tea in one hand, and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight, then sinks as you’re reminded of why you’re here.

“For your head which is probably hurting from last night,” Nishinoya grins, placing the cup of tea on the small coffee table in front of you. “And for my love, just because I missed you.”

He looks at you so tenderly as he hands you the flowers, you wonder if you can truly bring yourself to say what you need to say today.

You hesitantly accept the colorful assortment, swallowing the lump in your throat formed by the stifling guilt of your intentions.

“Thanks Noya,” you breathe, setting the flowers down gently on your lap without taking a sip of your drink. “I… I want to talk to you about something.”

An expression of concern washes over his face, as Nishinoya plops himself down on the cushion beside you.

“What is it?” he asks, giving you his undivided attention. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s about us,” you whisper, eyes glued to your sweaty hands resting on your knees. They curl into small fists as you build up the resolve to rip the bandaid off—Nishinoya deserves your honesty with no beating around the bush.

“I…” you begin, wary of Nishinoya’s gaze. “I think we should take a break.”

Your voice was barely audible, and yet the words that left your mouth ring loudly in both of your ears. They linger in the air between you, any remaining sliver of ease and comfort flying right out the door.

Gone.

“W-What?” Nishinoya stammers after a few seconds, his eyes widening. “Why?”

“Our relationship just… isn’t what it used to be,” you try to explain, knowing all too well that there’s nothing you could say that would lighten the blow. “I’m sure you’ve felt it these past few months too.”

“Is it something I did?” he asks, his usual, bubbly demeanor nowhere to be detected. “I can change! Just tell me what you want me to fix—anything!”

Nishinoya can feel his heart sinking lower and lower, until it reaches the pit at the bottom of his stomach. This was his worst fear, the one he’d always kept pushing away in the back of his mind.

No, this can’t be real. This can’t be happening—not when he’d finally found someone he was ready to spend the rest of his life with.

“It’s not you,” you reassure him, cringing at your own words.

God, you absolutely _hate_ yourself at this moment. You’re the worst.

“I just… don’t think my feelings are the same as what they used to be, even though I’ve tried, and wished, and hoped, that it wasn’t true,” you murmur, voice shaking. “And I think… deep down, you know that too.”

Nishinoya feels a little crack in his heart.

“No,” he says immediately. “I’ve never thought that about you!”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you peep, moving the bouquet of flowers from your lap to the coffee table. “I love and care about you so much, Noya, but I think I just… I need some space.”

You begin to stand up, eager to leave his apartment before he sees you cry.

Yes, you might not love him the same way anymore, but he’ll always be someone important to you, and it hurts you to bring him pain. It really does.

“Baby, wait—” Nishinoya grabs your hand as you rise from the couch, but you don’t have the bravery to look at him. “I’ll do anything, I really, _really_ can change! I’ll stop texting you so much, okay? You can call me whenever _you_ want, and I won’t come to your apartment unless you ask me to! Please?”

His voice is laced with desperation, his heart clinging onto the small shred of hope that will save him from the depths of despair.

“This… this is one of the reasons, Noya,” you say in a soft, low tone, wiggling your hand out of his grasp. You have to end it here. “I’m so, so sorry. But there’s nothing you can do, no matter how hard you try.”

Nishinoya stands behind you, completely stunned at your words.

Why…? Why is this happening to him?

“Goodbye,” you breathe, and, as you walk through the door, the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

Nishinoya watches you leave, now knowing that he has no choice but to let you go. Fragments of your memories together he held so close to his heart flash before his eyes, as if being played through a broken film projector for an audience of one.

Two tears, which had been threatening to fall for minutes now, finally roll down your face as you leave his apartment—but they are nothing compared to the waterfalls that leave Nishinoya’s eyes as he crumbles to his knees on the cold, hardwood floor.

He’s staring off, at nothing in particular, and unwilling to believe that he must live in a reality without you. He buries his head in his hands, and finally, begins to cry.

Where did he go wrong? Why wasn’t he good enough? Why couldn’t you stay?

His shoulders heave in dejection, and Nishinoya thinks his heart is going to be ripped out of his chest; for the first time in a long time, he feels truly alone—his only company being the cries and whimpers of anguish in his small apartment, heard and felt by nobody else but himself.

You know there’s nothing you could do to be forgiven of the way you’ve completely shattered Nishinoya’s heart, but it’s something you had to do.

You were no longer happy in the relationship, and your growing detachment was slowly killing him, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You could only feel nothing but sorry and regret towards him—the person who has adored you whole-heartedly and unconditionally for two years—and hope that he could still find happiness and love in the future, even if it isn’t with you.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments are greatly appreciated, and i hope you enjoyed ♡


End file.
